


A sorta fairy tale

by Enjambement22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Pre-Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 16:31:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enjambement22/pseuds/Enjambement22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after the War, Hogwarts is trying to recover. Harry helps found a nice working collective. But that's not at all a simple task.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Part 1**

**The end of June; July**

Sun rose about seven hours ago, but Harry Potter was still sound asleep. He was sleeping for six hours now and since people in their twenties needed at least eight hours of sleep a day, he would probably sleep past lunch-time. Which certainly didn't matter, because he wouldn't miss lunch anyway. It's believed that one cannot miss lunch if they cook it themselves.  
The bright sun of june made Potter's cottage in Godric's Hollow look even more blue in both meanings; it was painted sky blue, it was really pretty and stylish, but it looked unlived, like a sample and that made it melancholic. All the houses inhabited by wizardry families were now painted in bright, happy colours, nobody wore black robes and everybody was listening to the Deaf-eaters, a band that played ridiculously merry music, usually accompanied with accordion and bagpipes. Architectural fashion was surprisingly initiated by the Quibbler, which popularized a book entitled A Sorcerers Approach to Feng Shui by Park Tae Hee.

The Deaf-eaters were never played in Potter's home. The blue house knew only music that was at least twenty years old. Very good music, indeed. Much like Muggle jazz. The usual melancholy of saxophone filled every pore of the house. Slow piano was gliding across the windowpanes. Oboa and clarinet were hovering under the ceiling, charmed to look like the canopy of oak trees. Cello was exuberantly impregnating the heavy midnight-blue carpets.  
It was about two o'clock when an unfamiliar sound woke Harry. It was Neftis, Tonk's purple owl. She flew through the open window and was now hooting on his bedside table. She was carrying The Daily Prophet and a small letter. She must have been very sleepy. Harry dozily gave her her treat and slouched to the kitchen, making himself a big cup of strong coffee. He skimmed over the Prophet, not noticing anything special. The letter was from Tonks, it was obviously written in a hurry.

_Harry,_

_how's it going? We're fine, just a bit over-worked. The paper-work here at the Ministry is killing me, but Remus doesn't complain, as usual. I think I might just pack our bags one day and disappear to Africa. I'll let you know before I do that, I promise._   
_Anyway, I saw something interesting in the Prophet this morning, I thought you'd better check it out. It's a small notice on the last page – Hogwarts is about to re-open, and they are in need for staff. Remus agrees you should apply for the DADA post. I think nobody will ever dare to compromise The Boy Who Saved The World, regardless of your youth and lack of education._

_Love,_

_Tonks+Remus_

_P.S.: Think about it, Harry, please. Not for the sake of your parents or me, but for yourself. You'll get bored stuck in that house, and if I know anything about you, you cannot go running around the world forever. Love, Remus_

_P.S. 2.: Write back! Come visit! Love, Tonks_

Harry growled. He was quite an unpleasant person before he drank his coffee and ate breakfast. He read the mentioned news item:

**HOGWARTS FINALLY GETS PERMIT FROM THE MINISTRY**   
**SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY ABOUT TO REOPEN AFTER THREE LONG YEARS**   
_The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been denied permission to reopen for three years now. Headmistress McGonagall has been trying to convince the Ministry about how necessary the school is both for parents and children. There have been many petitions signed and sent to the Minister, but the only answer the unemployed teachers and overburdened parents ever got was: "The Minister is working on the case. It shall be solved soon." It seems the Minister has finally got through all the documentation and agreed to reopen the famous school that hasn't been working ever since the Last Battle, when it was completely devastated._

_The teachers will rebuild it with their own magical skills, without any help from the Ministry. Headmistress Minerva Mcgonagall told us: "The renovation is not a problem. What worries me is where to find capable teachers. We have lost many of our excellent colleagues in the War. I am taking advantage of this interview as to appeal on everybody interested in the following positions: Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Divination and Muggle Studies to send a CV to Hogwarts. We also need a Game Keeper and a Care Taker."_   
_The author of this contribution would like to take this place to express his best wihes for Hogwarts and hopes to see the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in all its former glory._   
_L.J._

Over a porridge Harry decided to send a CV to McGonagall. His Gringgots vault was quite inexhaustible, but he was very affraid to be pennyless again. Life with Dursleys taught him about being poor and helpless. And he knew for sure he doesn't want to be that. It also thaught him what being neglected and abused meant. He would never allow that to happen to him. Or the ones he loved. In any form. Ever again.  
He wouldn't become wealthy by working at Hogwarts, but at least he woudn't have to eat the bread of idleness. And with students and teachers all around he might feel a little bit less alone. He shoved the last thought away. He wasn't afraid to be alone, was he?

He wrote a terribly short C.V (It said: _"Dear Hedamistress McGonagall, I am Harry Potter. I would like to apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post. Best regards, H.P."_ ).; he knew that headmistress Minerva McGonagall knew him well enough to decide even without the C.V.. But on the other hand, did she really know him? He tore the impertinent letter; she might think he was kidding. She surely didn't need an immature DADA teacher. Or even worse, she might not find the letter only imeprtinent but also bursting with self-importance. Of course, that's what everyone would think: "he defeated Voldemort and now he's going to rest on his laurels for all his life". Harry wouldn't do that. He did pitty himself from time time. Nobody needs me now. They don't know what to do around me; don't know where to look. I should have died there. That's what they think. Be a nice little hero with a nice big, sparkling statue, grinning merrily in Diagon Alley and at the Ministry. And with a portrait at Hogwarts. Oh yes. What do you do with a hero that's still alive. Forget him. No one can be friends with an icon.  
But he wouldn't rest on his old fame. He could have done that before, but he never did, right? He sighed. Ah Potter, you're pathetic. Stop that adolescent blabbering and get your arse to work.  
He wrote a new letter, a much more polite one. Containing some data, also.

_"Dear Headmistress,_

_In today's Daily Prophet I read that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is in need for staff. I take an interest in the Defence against the Dark Arts position and I would like to apply for the job. I enclose my curriculum vitae in the letter. I am looking forward to hear from You._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Harry James Potter_

 

_Curriculum Vitae:_   
_After attending a Muggle school I went to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. During the school years I had a chance to meet the following dark creatures: a Basilisk, the Dementors, Dragons, Meerpeople, Werewolfs, etc. I fought several Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort on a few occasions. I experienced various curses, including Crutiatus Curse, Imperius Curse and Avada Kedavra._   
_In the seventh year I was absent from school, but I finished my N.E.W.T.s after The Final Battle._   
_I spent two years abroad (in Croatia, Bulgaria, Romania, Japan, Sudan and Tanzania), researching the local magical history and practice. I am finishing a book on Istrian Dark Creatures at the moment._   
_I am applying for the job on the recommendation of the former Hogwarts Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, now an Auror at the Ministry of Magic, and a friend of mine, mister Remus Lupin._

Mentioning the vanquishing of You Knew Who seemed quite redundant. But not mentioning it could seem like he ... Well, he decided not to torment himself anymore with thinking how missinterpreted his words could be.

He gave the letter to Hedwig when the night fell. Then he set in the garden, wrapped up in an Anti-Gnat Charm, embracing his legs and resting the chin on his knees.

He sat there for hours, not allowing the thoughts to occupy his mind too much. At dawn he was quite numb with both cold and his awkward sitting position, so he went to bed. An hour and two bars of chocolate later he managed to fall asleep. His dream was the usual cocktail of dark and painful experiences; his parents dying, the cold of Dementors, Cedric and the terrible sentence "Kill the spare!", Sirius' protection and love chrushed in many different simbolic variations, Dumbledore dying by Snape's wand, deserted villages, people crying, Voldemort laughing, Voldemort writhing in inhuman pain, Ron's content look before he disappeared. That's where he usually awoke and caught an image of very pale and terribly silent Hermione fading away. Then he drank his Dreamless Sleep and was gone for several hours.

The night was shorten this time by Hedwig, carrying McGonagall's letter. Harry cursed, but patted Hedwig who was hooting soothingly on his shoulder. She nibbled at his earlobe and made him laugh. Counting that as a treat, she went to the small owlery that Harry made for her and her mates.

Harry was still very tired, but excitement threw him out of bed and into the kitchen, where Dobby insisted to make him some coffee – he was protesting he has no work. "Dobby is very bored, master Harry. Dobby is wanting to be useful. Does master Harry not like what Dobby is cooking?," he started to sob. And Harry let him make the coffee and a toast. Dobby was delighted.  
"Oh, and are there any of those delicious chocolate-chip muffins you made last time left?," he asked cheerfully and Dobby was smiling from ear to ear and almost jumping now.  
"Dobby is making master Harry a strong coffee in any moment! Dobby is very happy master is liking Dobby's muffins. Winky is teaching Dobby to making sweets for Dobby's master, for Winky is knowing Harry Potter is a sweet tooth."  
Harry drank his coffee and read the letter. It was very short:

 

_Dear Harry,_

_please do visit me in my office at Hogwarts as soon as you manage. I was very pleased to hear from you._

_Best regards,_

_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall_

 

"I'll just go now, I guess," thought Harry and went to take a shower. He came out smelling like roses and cursed all the way to the wardrobe in his bedroom. Where he was standing, very confused, when Dobby with a plate full of hot muffins found him.

"Is master Harry needing anything else?," asked Dobby eagerly.  
"Err ... I don't have anything formal to wear," said Harry. Dobby shoved him a plate of muffins, pushed him on the bed and started digging through stacks of Muggle khaki and jeans trousers, faded t-shirts and baggy pullovers. He found what he was looking for and he held it to Harry with a triumphant look; it was something very crumpled and creased, probably moth-eaten, but the colour was a beautifully dark green.

At first Harry didn't recognize it, but then he realised it was his dress robe from the fourth year. He laughed benevolently: "Dobby, I was fourteen when I wore that! And I didn't shrink since."  
Dobby gave him a hermionish look, turned away and started muttering something. Harry was eating muffins absentmindedly when Dobby faced him with a smug expression and gave him a smart dress robe just perfect for his size. Harry was staring at him, puzzled.  
"House elves is knowing how to do magic, master Harry," said Dobby indignantly.  
"Oh, yes, I know, but I ... forgot," said Harry apologeticaly, trying the dress on. "It's brilliant!," Harry was admiring his new look in the mirror. "Thank you, Dobby!"  
Dobby's eyes filled with warmth and started to wink. Harry went out and turned to Dobby at the door: "Please, replace the shampoo with something a little less girlish."


	2. A job interview with a peculiar request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter goes to his job interview at Hogwarts. He reflects briefly on changes the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry faced in the last few years. He meets the new Headmistress. She's acquired some new quirks and has a peculiar, dumledore-sque request for Harry, who proves to be a real Gryffindor as always.

When Harry apparated to Hogwarts Apparition Point, Hogwarts was the same it always was. Except it wasn't. There was no game-keeper, especially no huge, clumsy and big-hearted game-keeper to greet you with everlasting warmth. Empty corridors didn't gossip or wink or mock you. He knew there was no Trelawney up in the misty Divination classroom. The clasroom probably wasn't even misty. There wasn't any old bat Snape to scare and teriffy the children in the name of Potions or any other excuse he could concoct at the given moment. And especially there was no Great Grandfather Albus Dumbledore to protect you and enlighten your world. The world as you know it. There was no world as you know it.

But, then again, changes weren't necessarily bad. There was still a promising Headmistress, and perhaps Hogwarts would get a decent DADA teacher once again now that the curse was over. Potions will finally become a normal subject, feared by some and liked by few, but a normal subject as any other. Divination post will be perhaps left to Firenze, which was an improvement, but it would lack the human touch and it certainly wouldn't have much connection to reality. Harry smiled wearily. He liked Firenze. But he wasn't at all unperturbed with the reason Trelawney was gone. Thinking about these new chapters of Hogwarts' history, he came to McGonagall's office and knocked; the door opened. McGonagall was sitting in her scarlet plush armchair with a teacup and smiled at Harry.

"Hello, Harry dear," she said with something slightly resembling a twinkle in her eyes.

"Come in and sit, please. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Good morning, Headmistress," said Harry, feeling a bit uneasy. He sat in the chair facing McGonagall and took the cup of tea she offered. He was pleasantly surprised by the coconut flavour of the tea.

"How was your trip abroad, Harry? You disappeared right after the Azkaban Trials and I only heard rumours about you. I wouldn't want to repeat any of them," smiled Mc Gonagall.

"Um ... I learned a lot, I guess. There was this very interesting man I met in Vrnjak in Croatian Istria and he really thaught me a lot about Istrian rites and magical creatures, he was the main reason I decided to write the book -", Harry started to talk very fast and then stopped and smiled: "I apologize ... I'm still very excited about the book. I never even thought I might want to write one."

McGonagall smiled: "Everything changes. I would like to chat with you a bit more, but I'm afraid the time presses us both."

"Right. Down to the bussiness then." Harry paused for a moment. McGonagall looked at him apprehensively. "Well, I am young and I don't have any teaching experience, but I think I qualify for the Defence Against the Dark Arts job anyway. I'm willing to take a teaching course or something, and do extra hours. I really need a job to get some experiences -"

"Harry, I'm not questioning you. You seem very nervous. It amuses me," McGonagall chuckled. "The Vanquisher of YKH intimidated by his former Head of House. What a best-selling title it would be."

McGonagall making jokes and chuckling? Things really do change.

Harry laughed. "You're right. I haven't seen you for so long and now everything came back at once, I just started to feel like a schoolboy again."

"Oh, but even then you had more cheek, Mister Potter," smiled McGonagall, shooting a mock glare at him. And then there was the twinkle again.

"Thanks," Harry gave her a charming smile.

"Well, it's really about time you stopped fidgeting. The job is yours," said McGonagall and added more seriously: "But I will send you a list of books on educational methods, principles and ethics. You said you lacked any experience in educational segment, but I think your work with Dumbledore's Army proved you are quite a talented teacher indeed. Nevertheless I think it would be wise to read some books on the subject. The children will see you as a teacher and as an authority now, and not as a friend and an equal with a little more experience and talent."

"Right. I would really appreciate the list. Thank you so much! Is there anything else I could do?," asked Harry. And was terribly sorry he did a moment later.

"Yes. I've been meaning to ask you that from the moment I've got your letter. You are a very talented and utterly brave wizard, Harry. Not only that, but we also learned how goodhearted you are," started McGonagall.

Harry stiffened.  _What's this speech all about? Has Voldemort resurrected? That can't be it._

" ... your differences and bring Snape to his senses. The Order has informed me he has retired from the world in his secluded mountain shack. If I know anything about Severus, he is going to accept the opportunity to work at Hogwarts with both hands. I am a little sorry I have to nudge him in his peace, but he is actually the only Potions master I know that can teach and not harm students while doing so, incredible as it may seem."

_What is she talking about? Did I hear her say Snape? Snape at Hogwarts? What have I got to do with that?_

"Harry, are you listening to me? Here's the address and a picture of the shack, so you will know where to Apparate. Or would you prefer a Portkey?"

Harry shook his head in disbelief and McGonagall said: "I thought so. Will you go today?"

She handed him a small bit of parchment with the address and a photo of a log cabin. The grass was swaying in the wind, butterflies were all around, the sky was as blue as it gets.

"I ... I don't think I can do that, I'm sorry."

"Of course you can," said McGonagall cheerfully. "Besides, I am positive Severus forgave you being suspicious about his loyalty even after it was legally proved."

The twinkle. Again. Manipulative old hag.

"I admit he was a formidable teacher, but he is not your professor anymore, Harry, so you needn't be afraid," said McGonagall cunningly and smiled.

_Afraid? Of Snape? Never!_

"I'll go today. How do I persuade him?"

McGonagall's expression turned to bussiness-like as she spoke: "He can have all the advantages he had before, but much more free time since he no longer has to be a spy. The salary is 20% higher and he doesn't have to do detentions ... Well, I better give you his contract so he can read it himself." He gave Harry a sealed scroll of parchment.

"See you then," said Harry, not very convinced.  _He's going to kill me. Throw me down the abyss, he wouldn't bother using a wand on me._  He shrugged inwardly and went for the door.

"Good luck, Harry," he heard McGonagall say and he would swear he heard a smirk in her voice.

 


End file.
